


His Whole Life

by PastelWonder



Category: The Sopranos
Genre: BBW-love, F/M, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 10:47:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7264954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelWonder/pseuds/PastelWonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You get off on that, doncha?” he grinned.</p><p>“Get over yourself, John,” she grinned back.</p><p>“Tell you one thing, I ain’t gettin’ over you, sweetheart. That’s for sure.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Whole Life

**Author's Note:**

> I've been watching The Sopranos on prime, and yesterday I saw 'The Weight', Season 4 Episode 4... *squeals*! John Sacrimoni is *ev-er-y-thing*! I love a bad motha fucka who's down for his big bitch, and Johnny Sack is as down as they come. Wanting to clip Ralph for making a fat joke about Ginny? I fell in love with Johnny Sack. I really, really did. 
> 
> That line, "That woman's my whole life", God it just killed me. 
> 
> This is unapologetic BBW love for my man, Johnny Sack. If it ain't yo thang, no problem. Ride on by :)
> 
> Love,  
> Pastel

“Gin?” Johnny set down his briefcase and closed the front door behind him. He was careful to shake the light dusting of snow on the shoulders of his coat off onto the rug before he stepped onto the hardwood.

His Ginny was a stickler about tracking wet through the house.

“John?” her small voice called from upstairs. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he smiled.

She came out onto the landing wearing a dark red silk nightgown and matching robe. The lights from the lavish Christmas garland swagged across the banister made her glow.

God, he’d missed her. A week in California working out a deal with the coolies over container shipments was too long.

“You’re beautiful, Gin.”

“Ja-ahn,” she chided, rearranging her robe over her breasts and smiling bashfully as he started up the stairs.

“What? C’mere, you.” He opened his arms when he got to the top of the landing and gave her a proud, male smirk.

She obliged him by shuffling up to him shyly. “You miss me?”

“I dunno,” he grinned, gathering up her softness in his arms.

Her eyes narrowed up at him, but she was smiling as she told him, “Don’t get cute with me, Jonathan.”

“Who’s gettin’ cute?” He squeezed a soft mewling sound out of her. “I wanna get withchu.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked, blushing.

Still, after nearly twenty years, she was as cute and coy as the day they met.

“Yeah,” he said softly, dipping his head to press a tender kiss on her forehead. He touched another to her nose, and then one more to the corner of her sweet little mouth before he murmured, “That alright with you, sweetie?”

“I missed you, Daddy,” she whispered, looking up at him with so much love and adoration in her eyes.

He kissed her deeply, stroking his tongue into her mouth as he lost himself in the soft press of her big breasts and belly against him, the slide of her silk nightgown beneath his hands, the smell of her perfume and the taste of chocolate and the sweet red wine she liked on her tongue.

She melted into him as he gripped the swell of her generous ass and squeezed, running her small, plump hands over his chest beneath his coat. He made a deep, rumbling sound and pulled her more firmly against him, until all that softness was pressed against the bulged in the front of his slacks.

“John!” she gasped as he broke the kiss and bowed lower to nuzzle her neck. He felt her go slack as her knees started to give beneath her, and he caught her in a firm, two-handed grip around the hips.

“I got you, sweet girl,” he said in her ear. Straightening, he gave her a boyish smile and crooned, “Come fly with me, let’s fly, let’s… fly away.”

He looped her arms around his neck and turned them in one smooth motion, so that his back was to the open bedroom door. With one hand on her ass and the other higher up her back for support, he walked them slowly backwards to their bed.

“In llama-land, there’s a one man band and he’ll… toot his flute for you,” he waggled his eyebrows at her.

“Jahn!” she laughed, her fingers tickling the hair at the nape of his neck. “You’re too much, you know that?”

“That’s what you’ll be sayin’ in a minute, sweet girl.”

“Oh yeah?”

When the backs of his knees bumped the bed, he turned her back around and helped her sit on the edge. She was beaming up at him, a rosy flush on her cheeks and her eyes dancing with humor.

It reminded him so much of that cute little sixteen-year-old _bellezza_ he met all those years ago at Teddy Roosevelt High. What a sweet, doe-eyed girl like her was doing in a Bronx public school, he’d had no idea, but he’d seen all that long, black hair and those bell-bottom jeans stretched over her big ass and nearly tripped over himself dashing off the practice field to talk to her.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” he’d asked her, giving her his trademark lopsided grin.

She’d looked around and said, “Who me?”

“Yeah you. You’re drivin’ me crazy. What’s your name, baby doll?”

“Gianna Giuliani,” she’d said uneasily, like she wasn’t sure where this was going.

But he knew right where it was headed, which is why he took her soft, plump hand in his and kissed it, while the entire JV football team ooed and cat-called from the field.

“Johnny Sacrimoni,” he’d told her proudly. “My friends call me Johnny Sack, coz I got big ones.”

“Ugh, get outta here!” she’d screeched, wrenching her hand out of his and whacking his shoulder padding. “Disgusting pig!”

He’d laughed and told her, "I'm gonna fall in love withchu, baby doll."

And he did.

She was scooting her way up their king-size bed with a playful smile, patting the rich comforter beside her. “C’mon John.”

That’s what she’d always called him, _John._  Or _Jonathan,_ if he was gettin’ on her nerves. Never Johnny.

Twitching his lips to hide a smile, he asked in mock-irritation, “Jesus, can a guy take off his shoes?”

“You wore your shoes up here, John? On the carpet?”

He waved her off as he toed off his Ferragamos, _Yeah yeah._

In about two minutes, the last thing she’d be thinking about was carpet stains.

“Ah, ah - leave it,” he told her sternly when she reached to switch off the lamp on the nightstand.

“Jahn,” she whined, watching him take off his belt and unbutton the cuffs of his shirt.

Climbing onto the bed at her feet, he reminded her quietly, “We said no more hiding, remember?”

“Jahn, please… I don’t want you to see me…”

He smoothed his hand up her calf, taking the hem of her nightgown with him over her thigh. He was sick of hearing the guys brag about the sexy numbers their _cumares_ wore for them - all the thigh-high stockings and slutty nurse’s outfits and leather bustiers - while he had to make love to his wife in the dark.

He squeezed a handful of her thick thigh, his rock-hard cock jerking as he watched her soft flesh gather under his hand. There was so much of her, and every inch of her was beautiful.

The doubt in her big, beautiful eyes and the way she bit her lip made his chest pinch.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I wanna see you. I’ve been dyin’ to see you.” When she smiled shyly, he said, “I been laying in that hotel every night for the past week with my dick in my hand, thinkin’ about this.”

“John,” she breathed, flushing the most beautiful hue of deep pink.

“Lie back, sweet girl,” he cooed at her, working her nightgown past her thighs and over her belly. “Take it easy.”

He nearly choked on his own saliva as he saw her soft lace panties the same dark red color as her gown. He cupped the swell of her stomach above her mound with one hand and nudged her thighs apart with the other as he settled between her legs.

Anxious as she may be about doing it with the lights on, she knew what came next, wiggling excitedly beneath him as he bent between her legs and nuzzled her sex through the gusset of her panties. He smiled to himself as he inhaled the scent of her arousal. He felt proud that after twenty years, he could still make her cream herself with his touches and his words.

“John,” she mewled as he sat up and carefully worked off her panties. “John, John…”

He parted her wide for him, savoring the sight of his tanned, scarred hands pressed into her soft inner thighs and her dark curls glistening with slick as the lips of her sex slowly peeled apart. He used this thumbs to split her labia wider, revealing all of her wet, pink cunt to him.

“Jesus,” he groaned, leaning in to take the first taste from her. She jerked as his tongue touched her, sensitive after a week without loving. He started with tender strokes, avoiding her clit as he let her get used to him, lapping all around her inner lips and dipping his tongue inside her cunt.

“C’mon, John,” she pleaded after a while, reaching over her belly with both hands to run her long, painted fingernails through his hair.

Smirking, he pulled the top of her mound taut with one hand, exposing the small pink bundle of nerves under her hood, and pressed his tongue to it.

She bucked. “Jesus Christ!”

He worked her up in no time, feeling her thighs shake against the sides of his face and seeing her belly jiggle with the contractions in her stomach just before she came. He let her have a moment to catch her breath, before he sucked two of his fingers in his mouth to coat them in spit and then worked them into her.

“Oh-ho Gawd, Jahn…”

He found that little gem hidden in the roof of her cunt and rubbed it in firm, tight circles while he bullied her clit with his tongue.

Her nails scratched at his scalp as she begged, “Jah-ha-hahn, I can’t… oh Gawd, Jahn… oh Gawd oh Gawd oh Gawd…”

She cried out as she came again, a loud, unintelligible babble of words and sounds. Her whole body shook and spasmed.

He took handfulls of her wherever he could reach to knead and squeeze her, leaving glossy handprints on her skin with the slick that coated him to the wrist. He nosed through the curls at the top of her mound and dipped his tongue into her slit again.

“No, please, no more,” she begged, pulling and tugging at his hair.

He raised his head to see her over the swell of her stomach and smirked. “You want me to stop?”

Rolling the pads of his fingers over her clit, he watched her head tip back and her belly quake.

“No-uhn, it’s too much, oh fuck-”

“Long as you’re happy,” he gave her his lopsided grin and rose onto his knees. Wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt, he popped the button on his trousers.

When he was finally nude, he helped her with the rest of her nightgown, pausing to run his hands over the delicate lace of her bra cups before he found the row of front hooks. Undoing them one-by-one, he watched as more and more of her big breasts spilled over the scalloped lace, revealing two brown nipples with large, dimpled areolas.

Pushing the bra off of them, he breathed, “Jesus, Ginny. Look at you, baby.”

His eyes wander over her breasts and down the rise of her big, round belly, past her thighs to her thick calves and plump, pretty feet. All that soft skin the same color as buttercream, so warm in his arms, like he was melting into her. He caught her unsure glance at the lamp and cupped her breasts in his hands, gently pushing them up and together as he asked, “Remember when you were still nursin’ the girls?”

“Yeah,” she huffed a laugh, remembering. “I was worried they were gonna starve tah death, you were drinkin’ all the milk.”

“No I wasn’t, just my cut.” He took her nipple in his mouth and suckled at it.

In all the years they’d spent together, that time was his favorite - lying in bed with his young wife and two small babies, listening to the soft gulping and smacking sounds they made as they nursed and holding all three of them in his arms. He would coax Ginny to lie on her side and let him make love to her from behind while the girls nursed and slept by her breasts. The mother of his children and his two tiny babies surrounded by his embrace, and him. The father. The protector and provider.

He felt his throat knot as he settled himself between her legs. “You been so good to me, Gin.”

She smiled tenderly. “Aw, John. I'm just returnin’ the favor.”

He closed his eyes as he pushed into her, feeling all that soft, wet heat around his cock contract as she tightened around him. “Mother fuck-”

Her ample body bounced and rippled in his arms in time with his thrusts. He felt her breasts and belly move against him, her thighs pressing tightly against his hips as he tapped out a steady rhythm. He hadn’t been kidding earlier when he’d said he’d been jerking off to this all week in his hotel. Not twenty strokes in and he was already so close he could feel a pleasant twist in his gut and his balls starting to draw close to his body.

She must have known - how could she not, after all the years of the two of them making love? - because she stroked her hands through his hair and over his back as she purred, “Come on, Daddy. Come on.”

“Want me to come in you, sweetheart? Huh? That’s what you want?” he panted over the soft slapping sound of their bodies as he started to beat a harder, faster rythym.

“Yeah, Daddy. Fill me up with your come. I wanna feel it deep inside me,” she fluttered her lashes at him.

“Jesus, fuckin’ killin’ me wit ‘at,” he puffed.

She giggled.

The sight of her smiling face, so much love in her eyes, the dewy flush of sex and satisfaction on her cheeks and chest, were too much, and he rocked up into her hard enough to make her breath catch and shot his load. She whimpered sweetly, her cunt tightening around him as he pumped inside her.

“You get off on that, doncha?” he grinned at her through the haze.

“Get ovah yourself, John,” she grinned back.

“Tell you one thing, I ain’t gettin’ over you, sweetheart. That’s for sure.”

“Oh yeah?” She touched his cheek.

“Never,” he promised. “Till death do we part, sweet girl.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yah know, this pairing reminds me a *lot* of Susan/Tom. Only John has much more class, and Ginny isn't as badass. Weeeell, she is a mob wife. Spy, mob wife - they're both pretty cool. 
> 
> Hey, at least I did a canon BBW pairing this time. Although, we *all* know, if Tom and Susan's universe were ever to cross, he'd be on that ass like white on rice. #Unapologetically. :>


End file.
